4 New Products to Try this Valentine's Day

We've told you how to pimp your vajajay, get gorgeous with crazy treatments, decipher her Valentine riddles, and enjoy some quality alone time with an iTunes app. Now Magick Sandwich brings you this dispatch from our annual genital Olympics.


Our tireless pursuit of hairless pudenda has claimed a hidden casualty. The pubic crab is all but extinct, Bloomberg reports, due to our destruction of its habitat. (Where is PETA? Off protesting the eugenics of dog breeding at the Westminster Kennel Show? Are saber-toothed crotch critters unworthy of affection? How species-ist!)
While it may be too late for the littlest victims, we can hide our guilty loins with the Kitty Carpet, the reusable downstairs toupee. A popular style is the Michael Jackson, presumably because it looks like a Jheri curl and is highly flammable.

For the man who suffers feelings of inadequacy when watching Mad Men (also known as Jon Hamm-feriority complex), there is the faux bulge of Trunk in My Junk, an underwear insert that offers the latest in stealth codpiece technology. Unless she tries to put her hands down your pants.

Also for gents, the soothingly named ballsBalm is a depilatory lotion that comes with a decidedly rough-sounding exfoliating glove. The company touts it as an enjoyable adjunct to pleasuring oneself. It sounds like a sadomasochistic way to cut the brush to make the tree look bigger. If sandpapering one's own gonads was pleasant, Home Depot wouldn't be able to keep the stuff in stock.


Finally, a product called repHresh uses this cute girl in Groucho glasses to represent other deodorants that mask vaginal odor. Can Mr. Marx' estate sue? (Please?) While in this case "pH balance" is code for "smelly cooch," the ad also mentions odor seven times, proceeding from the assumption that women already stink. Ladies, if you go to all this trouble and your man still doesn't like it down there, maybe he's gay!


Whatever's trending for you, #bush or #bald, we at Magick Sandwich wish you a happy Valentine's Day. No matter what you've got going on, have fun. Go crazy. 'T ain't nobody's business if you do!


The 9-Step Magick Sandwich Diet Plan

It's almost February. How are your New Year's resolutions panning out? Have you given up already? Have you decided not to participate? Ha, trick question: that's a resolution, too! Hedge your bets and resolve to do something that cannot fail! The Magick Sandwich New Year's Diet, soon to be endorsed by Dr. Oz* (*through the mathematical probability that everything will eventually be monetized by Dr. Oz), is the foolproof plan that will make you a winner. Just follow these simple steps:

1.  Berate yourself about your weight, size, love handles, saddle bags, anything that makes you feel bad about yourself. This is essential for mental conditioning and can take weeks, months or years. Intensive carbo-loading is recommended during this training period.

2.  Fill your Netflix queue with documentaries about the evils of processed and/or fast foods and the conglomerates that peddle them. The titles must make you feel indignant and alarmed so you will never feel moved to actually watch them.

3.  Switch from regular soda to diet. Promise yourself you'll switch to water and iced tea soon.

4.  Get the latest WiiFit and Xbox Kinect fitness programs. TiVo The Biggest Loser. Worry that you don't feel morally superior enough when gawking at morbidly obese people on the street.

5.  Buy some cute workout clothes and a pair of 1lb. dumbbells.

6.  Join a gym, but not the same one as last year because the guy there might recognize you and you didn't like his attitude.

7.  Buy Shape, Self or any other generic fitness magazine with a cover story that reads, "Why hard exercise may not be good for you" or "You won't believe how many calories you can burn just doing your daily routine." Skip pages depicting specific exercises. Too graphic.

8. Grow to resent these new things that seem to mock you more with each moment they remain unused. Throw them in the closet where you store your old skinny jeans and shelves full of yoga pants with the tags still on.  Pretend your company has suddenly relocated you to Guam in order to get out of your gym membership.

9. Switch back to regular soda.

Success! After an appropriate interlude of smearing yourself in bacon grease, rolling around on a bed made of Big Macs and diving from a great height into a giant bucket of KFC, return to Step 1. It's the only diet you'll ever need because it never ends!

You're welcome.